


The first day of the rest of your life

by vivianblakesunrisebay



Series: Patrick Brewer hours [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, Episode: s04e01 Dead Guy in Room 4, Falling In Love, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianblakesunrisebay/pseuds/vivianblakesunrisebay
Summary: David and Patrick on the first day of their relationship. They go on a date and kiss a lot.Includes events from 4.01.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Patrick Brewer hours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564135
Comments: 96
Kudos: 447





	The first day of the rest of your life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little sequel to my fic [Happy to Help](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107588/chapters/50224769). After writing Patrick yearning for David for six chapters, I wanted to show a little bit of him actually getting to be with him.

When Patrick’s eyes flew open at 5:00 am, he knew right away that he was not going to get back to sleep. _I kissed David last night._

He puttered around the kitchen in blessed silence, without Ray’s chatter and solicitude about offering him every conceivable variety of breakfast food combinations. _I kissed David_ hummed in his head as he heated up water for his tea, as he popped a slice of bread in the toaster, as he spread the butter and jam.

He could feel his brain wanting to worry, wanting to burrow into the well worn tracks of his anxiety about David, turn this into _does he really like me_ or _did I make a fool of myself_ , but _I kissed David_ kept rushing over these thoughts like water, obliterating those familiar grooves.

After breakfast he went to go take a shower, and _I kissed David_ started tingling all his nerve endings, and before he even turned on the water his dick was already half-hard.

Patrick stepped under the spray. He put himself back in that darkened car, with David’s lips on his; he remembered how he had felt, and imagined feeling that way in bed with someone, in bed with David. His closed his eyes, his hand going to his cock and starting to stroke. He thought about kissing David again, touching him, touching his cock, feeling David’s cock in his mouth. His hand sped up; he thought of David’s hands and mouth on his body, touching Patrick and kissing him, that mouth on his body, those lips closing around his cock; and through it all there was the delicious thought that this might be real someday. _These are things that might happen. These are things that will happen._ That _will_ was enough to push him over the edge, and he came all in a rush.

Back in his room, without an impending orgasm to distract him, his brain shifted, shook off some of the giddy glow of the last few hours and opened up a new track of worry in his mind. All those things he’d just been thinking about—he was going to have no idea what he was doing, was he? He was pretty much guaranteed to make a fool of himself, wasn’t he? How was this going to work? What was David going to expect?

Research. He’d do some research. He pulled out his laptop, opened up a private window—who knows why, no one used this laptop but him. He googled gay sex, got a lot of porn sites. He tapped his finger against the side of his keyboard. This wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was more of a—an instruction manual. Did they have YouTube tutorials for gay sex? If they did, he hoped they were better than the ones for electrical wiring.

He snapped his laptop closed and shoved it aside. He wasn’t going to do this now. David knew he’d never been with a guy. He’d understand Patrick wanting to take things slow.

Patrick checked the time. It wasn’t quite 7 am. He’d go to the store, he decided. He’d get a head start on replenishing their stock for the weekend. He’d keep his mind and hands busy with repetitive, orderly, straightforward tasks.

When he got to the store, the sun was just coming up. He’d never been here this early, and the dawning sunrise flooded the store with golden light, too symbolic for words.

He updated the inventory sheets. He straightened the lotions on the tables so they were evenly spaced and all the labels faced forward the way David insisted on. He unloaded boxes and restocked shelves. Even though he knew it would be hours before David showed up, he couldn’t keep his eyes from straying over to the door every few minutes, hoping to see him. 

At 9:30, as he was restocking the baskets of journals and blank books, Patrick’s heart jumped out of his chest when David breezed in, in a light colored sweater and—holy Jesus—tight jeans that showed off his ass and long, long legs. 

David stopped just inside the door. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Patrick said, and he couldn’t stop the dopey smile that spread over his face, or keep himself from walking toward David as though drawn by a magnet. David started walking towards him too, and when they were a few feet apart they both paused, looking at each other, and Patrick didn’t know what to do, and it looked like David didn’t either, and it was all so awkward suddenly, but then David saved it when he leaned in and kissed Patrick on the cheek. And Patrick heard himself laugh, and God, he was giddy. He was so giddy. He had to calm down, but he was never going to calm down.

*

Two hours later, he was in the back to get more cash from the safe, and all he could do was stare at it blankly. He had no memory of the combination. His mind was reeling.

Things had started to go sideways almost immediately, this morning. David asked right off if Patrick had _regrets_ about their kiss, which, what?—but then followed that up by asking if he could stay at Patrick’s place that night. Which, oh God, that was just what Patrick had been worried about. But when Patrick had said stumblingly that he needed to take things slow, David tried to backtrack and seemed to be saying that’s not what he meant at all, and it turned out that he had only asked to stay with him because of a dead body at the motel; and the way this came out was David’s mother stopping by and stating dramatically that she had killed him, and then David started panicking too, and Patrick felt like he had to step in, even though he wasn’t supposed to be listening and this was David’s _mother_ and she was sort of terrifying, honestly, but she seemed reassured by what Patrick said, even though she got his name wrong. Then, on her way out Patrick heard her whisper to David that he, Patrick, was “a button.” A button, really?

So now Patrick was hiding—no, not hiding, _working_ here in the back. Had Patrick totally embarrassed himself by assuming David wanted to sleep with him tonight, when all David wanted was a place to stay? What had David said to his mother about him? Was this what dating David was going to be like?

He’d take it. God, he’d take it. It was such a rush. He loved it. But—

They should … talk. Talking was good. He stood up, giving up on trying to remember the combination right now. It would come to him later. He came out and stood next to David, who was standing at a table fiddling with one of the alpaca sweaters.

Patrick had no idea where to start. “So you told your mom about us,” he said.

“No,” David said. “I told Alexis about us, and _she_ likely told my mom.”

“Okay, listen, David—” Patrick began.

“No, you listen,” David interrupted, then caught himself. “Sorry, that came out way harsher than I wanted it to.” He paused. “I know how this looks, especially considering you just told me you wanted to take things slow—but me wanting to stay at your place was more about what was happening at—”

Patrick broke in, “I know that now. And I’m sorry for assuming that you wanted to stay at my place to—” he looked down—“sleep with me or whatever.” He could feel himself blushing. Dammit.

He looked up. David was smiling a little, but he looked embarrassed, maybe a little worried, or something. Suddenly Patrick remembered David’s face this morning, when he had asked Patrick if he had regrets. There was something in his voice that showed he was expecting the worst. 

_It’s just a habit to ask._ What did that mean?

What might this look like from David’s point of view? What if David thought Patrick wasn’t serious about him, that he was just—experimenting, or something? A mostly-straight guy just doing this on a whim?

At that thought, everything else fell away. Patrick knew what to say, what he wanted David to know. He said, bringing the words out carefully, “You know, when you kissed me, that felt like my first time. All the things you’re supposed to feel—I felt them, last night.”

And David—David looked _shy._ Shy and pleased. “Well,” he said. “If we’re being honest with each other, this is kind of like my first time too.” He paused. “I mean, it’s not. I’ve kissed like a thousand people, but no one I cared about, or respected, or thought was—nice. So, in a way, it’s like we’re both starting something new.”

This was a new side of David, and Patrick felt like he was being given a gift. “Thank you, David,” he said.

Then, wanting to lighten the mood, and also just because it was fun, Patrick couldn’t help teasing a little, mirroring David’s compliment back to him but calling him _good_ instead of _nice,_ and David immediately rose to the bait, and he was so adorable Patrick just wanted to kiss him.

He could, Patrick realized with a jolt. He could kiss him. Right now.

He slid his arms around David’s waist and pulled him in. He kissed him, and David kissed him back. It was so good, better even than last night, which Patrick could not have imagined. Then David broke off the kiss to keep bantering about _nice_ versus _good_ and Patrick thought about how much fun it was to tease David like this; it was almost as much fun as kissing him. And now he could do both at once.

David’s hands were resting on Patrick’s upper arms, and he slid them up onto Patrick’s shoulders. Then he slowly stroked down again, smoothing over his shirtsleeves, and then back up almost to his neck. He seemed happy to just stand there in Patrick’s arms.

The day was going a lot better suddenly.

“That feels nice,” Patrick said, when David slid his hands down over his shoulders again.

David looked uncertain. “Is it okay? Is it slow?”

“Yes, of course it’s okay,” Patrick said.

“I’ve, um, wanted to do it for a long time,” David said.

“Really?” Patrick asked. He tried to bite back the smile that started to spread over his face. “How long?”

“I don’t think I want to tell you. You look far too smug already,” David said.

“What? I’m just happy,” Patrick said. He leaned in and kissed David again. “What if I told you I’ve been wanting to do this”—he kissed him again—“for months?”

David’s hands flew up. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” he said. His tone was exasperated, but he was smiling. He brought his hands back down on Patrick’s shoulders, and resumed stroking.

“So I was thinking,” Patrick said, tightening his grip on David’s waist. “We should go out for dinner tonight. Day after your birthday dinner.”

David looked pleased. “Okay,” he said. “I have to move my stuff out of my room before four o’clock.”

“Why don’t you go now?” Patrick said. “I’ll cover the store. Just be back by six and we’ll go get pizza.”

“Ooh, pizza,” David said, his eyes lighting up. 

*

 **David:** I picked the worst time to come here  
**David:** the coroner is here NOW  
**David:** Dad and stevie are distracting the guests with vodka and cinnamon rolls

 **Patrick:** have some if it will help

 **David:** oh i already did  
**David:** the cinnamon roll i mean  
**David:** its not a vodka in the afternoon kind of day

 **Patrick:** just don’t ruin your appetite  
**Patrick:** remember pizza

 **David:** oh I never forget pizza

“I said,” a voice said, sounding distinctly annoyed, “Do you have witch hazel?”

Patrick looked up at a very annoyed customer, and he realized he’d been staring at his phone, smiling like a maniac, completely oblivious to everything else. He put his phone in his pocket and jumped up to help her.

*

David came back to the store at 5:15, Stevie trailing behind him. At the sight of Stevie, Patrick had a momentary panicked flashback to last night, but he told himself not to be stupid. David had changed his clothes. He was wearing a fuzzy black sweater and black jeans that were ripped at the knees. He looked very sexy and very … touchable.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Stevie said, and Patrick realized he was staring. He dragged his eyes away and met Stevie’s amused glance. “Hi, Stevie,” he said.

David said, “I’ll just go get that wine,” and went into the back.

“You can stop that anytime,” Stevie said to Patrick.

“Stop what?” Patrick said.

“That glowing thing. You and David. It’s fucking annoying.” She rolled her eyes but also gave him a sidelong half-smile. “How’d your _date_ go last night?”

“Didn’t David tell you about it?” Patrick asked. He really wanted to know how David had explained it to Stevie.

“He kind of indicated that he finally managed to figure out it _was_ a date. With some help from me.”

“Ah,” Patrick said. “So I guess I should thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. Pointing out when David is being stupid is kind of a hobby of mine.”

He laughed, and Stevie joined in, just as David came back with a bottle of wine. He narrowed his eyes at them. “What’s going on here?” he said, gesturing between the two of them.

“Oh, we’re laughing at you,” Stevie said, taking the wine. She waggled it at both of them and turned to go.

 _Should I ring that up for you?_ was what Patrick didn’t say. There were times, he decided.

The door closed behind Stevie. He and David were left alone. Everything was quiet. The store was closed. No customers were going to bother them. It was the perfect time to kiss David again, but Patrick felt shy suddenly.

“Should we go?” he said.

Patrick grabbed his bag. David locked the door.

“I walked to work today,” Patrick said when they were outside. “My car is at my place.”

They walked down the street, close together, their arms and shoulders brushing. Could Patrick take his hand? Was that okay? He still felt shy. He didn’t take it.

When they reached Ray’s house, Patrick turned to go up the front step. David hung back. “Wait, what are we doing here?” he said.

“Dropping off my bag?” Patrick said.

David threw his arms wide. “But why here?”

“Because I live here?” Patrick said, opening the door and gesturing for David to go ahead of him.

“You live with Ray?” David said as he went inside. Patrick followed him.

“Yes, I’m renting a room.” Patrick turned around to close the door. When he turned back, David was still looking at him. “What?"

David said, “I just want to get this clear. When you asked me to stay with you when my sister had lice, where were you imagining I would sleep?”

“Um,” Patrick said.

David raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe I didn’t think it through,” Patrick said.

“Oh, were you being impulsive?” David said archly. He seemed vastly amused. He wasn’t smiling but he seemed like he wanted to, his lips pursed to try to hold it in.

Patrick had to kiss him then.

He put down his bag and went over and put his hands on David’s waist. David looped his arms around Patrick’s neck and leaned down to kiss him. David’s stubble was pleasantly scratchy against Patrick’s face, and his lips were incredibly soft and gentle. After a minute of feeling those soft lips move beneath his own, Patrick wanted more, just a little bit more, and he tentatively touched his tongue against David’s closed mouth. David opened up for him and with a thrill Patrick slipped his tongue inside. As soon as David’s tongue brushed against his, Patrick suddenly wanted a _lot_ more, so much more, and he thrust his tongue in all the way, and David responded with a fierce eagerness that went straight to his head, and Patrick forgot everything he ever knew about finesse or technique; he was consumed with the desire to possess all of David’s mouth, to plunder it and own it completely; he brought his hands up to tangle in David’s hair and pull him closer, closer, and David was clutching at Patrick’s neck and back and Patrick couldn’t get enough; he could feel his cock hard and throbbing in his jeans, he wanted to thrust against David, God, right here in Ray’s living room. He’d never felt like this just from a kiss, or from anything, ever.

Somewhere in the heat and fog of his hormone-addled brain, he registered the unmistakable sound of Ray’s car crunching the gravel of the driveway. Patrick broke off the kiss and opened his mouth to tell David that Ray was here, but his brain couldn’t form words.

“What’s wrong? Is this not—slow?” David said. His hair was mussed and his lips were red. He had a dreamy look in his eyes, and Patrick felt a surge of satisfaction that he’d put that look on David’s face.

“Uh,” Patrick said, just as the door opened and Ray said “Hello, Patrick! David, how nice to see you!” in a delighted voice. David immediately jumped away. His hands flew up to his hair, smoothing it down.

“Hello, Ray,” Patrick managed to say.

Well. Patrick was acutely conscious of his erection, which his jeans and tucked in shirt were doing nothing to hide. He tried to sidle over so he would be behind David, without being too obvious about it, but David seemed like he had the same idea and he was ducking behind Patrick.

“I did not realize that you two were an item!” Ray said, beaming at them.

Patrick didn’t know what to say, what David would want him to say. He glanced over at him, but David’s eyes were fastened on the floor.

“David, I hope you will stay for dinner,” Ray said, clapping his hands together. “I am making pad thai!”

“Actually, Ray, we’re going out,” Patrick said, just as David murmured, “Pad thai?”

“But I thought you liked my pad thai, Patrick,” Ray said. He sounded devastated, and Patrick was a little bit grateful for the guilt trip and maximum Ray awkwardness—it was helping his dick get the message that nothing exciting was happening anymore.

“Oh, I do,” Patrick said. “We just had plans to get pizza. Unless—” he looked at David and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” David said.

“Would you rather go for pizza or stay here?”

David looked startled, like he was surprised Patrick was asking for his opinion, which was strange for someone who had an opinion about everything. “Um, I guess, pizza?” he said. Ray made a small sound of distress.

Patrick picked up his bag and turned to go upstairs. “Let me just put this in my room, and then we’ll go.”

David gave him a look, which Patrick interpreted as _don’t leave me alone with Ray._

“Ray will keep you entertained!” he called over his shoulder.

Upstairs, Patrick put his bag in his room. He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His lips were red and a little swollen, his cheeks pink from being scraped by David’s stubble. He looked like—well, like he’d just been thoroughly kissed.

His heart sped up, remembering how it had felt. He’d never felt out of control like that before; it had felt like drowning, like falling. He didn’t know he could feel like that. _All the things you’re supposed to feel._ These were things most people felt early on, when they were teenagers, so when they were his age they knew how to handle it.

He wondered if he’d come across like that, like a horny teenager, not smooth or suave at all. He wondered what David thought, what he was thinking right now. All at once he was embarrassed; his face burned.

He pushed the thoughts away. He would just do better, next time. Show David he could kiss him without shoving his tongue down his throat. He went back in his room, looked down at his blue button down and jeans. Should he change clothes? David had changed. He remembered his stupid blazer from the night before. He wouldn’t change. 

When Patrick came down, David was sitting on the couch with his face buried in his phone, saying _mm hm, mm hm_ while Ray talked to him about the finer points of closet organization. Ray was saying, “I am a fan of the KonMari method myself, David, and I would love to tell you more about it—”

David saw Patrick and shot up off the couch. “Okay, I guess we’re going."

Patrick said, “Are you sure, David? We don’t have to go quite yet, if you want to finish your conversation.”

David was looking daggers at him. “I’m sure,” he said. He practically ran to the door. Patrick followed, suppressing a smile. 

“Have a nice night, gentlemen!” Ray called after them.

*

The restaurant was called Slice of Life and had red and white checked tablecloths and deep red candle holders. The waiter seated them in a booth and handed them their menus. The normal-sized menu felt tiny in his hands, and Patrick reflected he was eating way too many meals at the cafe.

They decided to split a pepperoni pizza. Patrick suggested adding green peppers, and David graciously acceded. “And an order of breadsticks,” David said to the waiter.

After the waiter went away, Patrick said, “I always thought breadsticks were a bit of a scam.”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it. No one eats pizza crusts, and that’s essentially what breadsticks are. So it’s the restaurant repackaging something that no one eats, and charging for them.”

“Breadsticks are so much more than _pizza crusts_ ,” David said.

“How are they different?” Patrick asked.

David threw up his hands. “A pizza crust is a _handle,_ it’s a _vehicle_ to get the pizza into your mouth. A breadstick is—it’s—”

“It’s what?”

“It’s bread. Warm, crusty, delicious bread in the shape of stick.”

“Okay, David,” Patrick said. "Next you’ll be telling me you like those big mall pretzels,” he said. At David’s expression, he said, “Wait, do you?”

David shook his head, but it looked half-hearted.

“Come on, David, you can tell me. It will be our secret.”

David’s smile faded. 

“What is it?” Patrick said.

David fiddled with his silverware, lining them up precisely.

“You okay?” Patrick asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

David shook his head. Then he said, speaking all in a rush, “It’s just, I never asked if you were okay with people knowing about—”

“About what?”

David gestured at the space between them. “ _This._ Before I told my sister, and she told my mom, and Ray walked in on us—I didn’t ask you.”

The waiter appeared with the breadsticks. David’s eyes dropped. He stared down at the red checked tablecloth.

Patrick thought back to this morning, the look on David’s face when he'd said, _regrets?_ He thought about what he knew about David’s dating history. 

He wondered if David had ever been anyone’s secret.

“David, I’m not—it’s not—” Patrick said. He took a deep breath. “I’m fine with people knowing about—this.” He was fine. More than fine. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, really.

David still wasn’t looking at Patrick. His hand was resting on the table. Patrick remembered how he’d wanted to take David’s hand earlier, how he hadn’t done it. He reached out and touched David’s hand with his own, sliding his fingers over his. David looked up with a startled glance, but then he turned his hand over and closed it over Patrick’s in a warm, firm grip.

Now they were holding hands. He was holding hands with David.

“David,” he said. 

“Yes?” David said, when Patrick paused. 

Patrick said, “I really want people to know we’re an item.”

“Oh my God, did you just say _item?”_ David said, rolling his eyes. But his hand tightened around Patrick’s.

David used his other hand to pick up a breadstick. He dunked it in the sauce and took a bite. Patrick watched as David closed his eyes, obviously savoring it. It shouldn’t be so hot watching someone eat.

“Can I try one?” Patrick asked.

David opened his eyes. “Fine,” he said, gesturing magnanimously. “Only so you can see how wrong you were.”

Patrick took a breadstick, dipped it in the sauce, took a bite. It was delicious; warm and crusty on the outside, chewy on the inside, with hints of garlic and parmesan. 

“I see now how wrong I was,” he said, and was rewarded with one of David’s bitten back smiles, his lips tucked back between his teeth.

“Now I’ll ask you something,” Patrick said. He put his breadstick down on his plate. “Why did you invite Stevie on our date last night?”

David said, like it was obvious, “Because it wasn’t a date?”

“How could you think it wasn’t a date?”

“I thought you were feeling sorry for me! I thought it was a pity dinner!” David said, gesturing wildly with his breadstick.

“Oh, well, it was that _too,_ naturally.”

“Okay,” David said, waving that off. “Then Stevie said, she told me—but I still wasn’t sure.”

“So when were you sure?”

“When you kissed me back?”

Patrick laughed, and David’s smile twisted to the side.

Patrick let go of David’s hand so he could lean over the table and take David’s face between his hands. He kissed him, hard, on the mouth.

“Just so there’s no doubt,” Patrick said. _”This_ is a date.”

*

In the car on the way back, David realized he didn’t have his phone, and said he thought it must be at Ray’s.

“You’re sure it’s not at the restaurant?” Patrick asked.

“No, I think I put it down after you _abandoned_ me with Ray.”

“I thought you’d be interested in closet organization, David,” Patrick said. “I thought Ray could help you figure out how to store your sweaters.”

“God, no,” David said, looking appalled, and Patrick laughed.

When they got to Ray’s, the house was dim and quiet. It looked like Ray was in his room for the night. Patrick hoped so.

David’s phone was lying on the coffee table. He went to pick it up.

David turned and came back toward the door, where Patrick was standing. As he passed, Patrick caught his hand and tugged him closer. David went into his arms with a little smile. 

Patrick slid his hands up David’s back and brought David’s face down to kiss him. He’d never kissed anyone taller than him before. He loved it. He loved everything about kissing David. Patrick reminded himself to hold back, not lose control like he had earlier; he held his hands lightly against David’s back and slid his tongue alongside David’s, nibbling gently on his lower lip. But after a minute of this David was pulling him closer, encouraging Patrick with his tongue to deepen the kiss, and Patrick responded, he couldn’t help it, and pretty soon, just like before, he was plunging his tongue into David’s mouth, biting his lips, and David was biting him back, their teeth scraping against each other; Patrick was frantically clutching at David’s back, running his hands up his body to the back of his head, tangling his hands in David’s hair, pulling at it, pulling him closer.

 _Stop. Slow down._ Patrick forced himself to pull his mouth away, to unclench his hands from David’s hair. “Uh, sorry,” he said.

David looked dazed. “What?” he said. “What for?”

Patrick brought his hands to David’s face, gently. “For kissing you like—” _Like a desperate, horny teenager._ “Like, uh, that.”

David’s hands were running restlessly over Patrick’s shoulders, his back, his neck. “I like it,” he said. He sounded breathless. “I like the way you kiss me. It’s like—you want to eat me alive. I like it, Patrick.”

 _I want to eat you alive._ At that, Patrick groaned and pushed David against the door, covered his mouth with his for a filthy, blistering kiss, not holding back at all; he pressed himself against David’s body from shoulder to thigh, and Patrick’s cock was hard and he knew David could feel it, and oh God, he could feel David’s cock, too, hard against him, and what a rush that was, that he had that effect on David, that David was hard for him. He rolled his hips against him and felt David’s gasp, felt his hips jerk in response. He did it again; and oh, that was so good, he wanted more—he wanted so much—he wanted everything.

“Stay,” he gasped into David’s mouth.

“What?” David said. His hands stilled on Patrick’s back. He pulled back a little from their kiss, as much as he could, with his back against the wall.

“Stay here tonight, just stay,” Patrick said. He kissed him again, pressing against him. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. He just knew he didn’t want to stop; everything with David, touching him and kissing him, feeling David hot and responsive in his arms; all of it felt so right, and he didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop.

David pushed Patrick away, his hands on his shoulders, holding him away from him. “No, no, we’re going slow,” he said, gasping a little. “Slow is good.”

“Is it?” Patrick said.

“You know I’m right,” David said. His hands moved up to Patrick’s hair, touching the back of his neck, and then stroked back down and stopped, holding him in place, his hands strong on his shoulders.

Patrick took a deep breath. He brought his hands up, rested them on David’s chest.

He looked up at David’s face. David's skin was golden in the dim light. His eyes were dark and liquid, his cheekbones catching the light; his mouth, so outrageously sexy, lips pink and a little swollen, like someone had bitten them. Someone _had_ bitten them; Patrick had bitten them; he’d made David look this way, the way he looked now, so mussed up and gorgeous and—open somehow. Patrick felt how lucky he was; he was so lucky to be seeing David like this, to be with David like this. His gaze flickered up to meet David’s eyes.

David brought a hand to Patrick’s face. “When you look at me like that—” He didn’t finish. He brushed his thumb over Patrick’s cheek and leaned his forehead against his. Patrick closed his eyes.

David whispered, “I don’t know how—I’m usually—” He let out a breath, almost a laugh. “Sex is the only part of a relationship I’m good at.”

Patrick opened his eyes. “David—” he said.

“Let me just—” David said, bringing his finger up to Patrick’s lips. “I don’t know how to do this. Going slow. Or—any of it. But I’m—I want to—” He broke off. Patrick could feel him breathing, little hitching breaths. “I want to try,” he said.

Patrick realized his hands had clenched in the front of David’s sweater. He forced them open, smoothing out the fabric with his palms, spreading out his fingers. He could feel the warmth of David’s skin under the sweater; David’s heart beating under his hands. 

Patrick said, whispering, “I want to try, too. I don’t—know what I’m doing, either.”

Their lips touched, clung together. David’s hand cupped his cheek, gently, so gently. Then he pushed Patrick more firmly away and dropped his hands. Patrick stepped back.

 _I love you,_ Patrick thought. But didn’t say, thankfully.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” Patrick said.

He held out his hand. David took it, and they went out together.


End file.
